In Plain Sight
by ShinkonoKokoro
Summary: Arthur can't let Merlin be killed because of his own mistake, so he sends him away for the witch hunt his father organises. And then Nelmir arrives. And Arthur may have found a replacement in his life for the hole Merlin left.


Merlin's gone, and Arthur's upset. Only this time he's no one to blame but himself. He was the one who said something stupid that ended with Merlin's sorcery discovered. Thus Arthur's only option is to aid Merlin's escape and hamper his capture.

And being the apparently decent sorcerer he is, Merlin escapes leaving Arthur to really wonder if he would have been able to catch Merlin if he had been trying.

His father calms eventually, the floppy-haired, big-eared likenesses getting plastered over with new 'Wanted' signs. And life returns to boring.

Staring out his window almost two years later, he wonders if it was that very fact that caused Arthur to turn into a prat, as Merlin so affectionately reminded him. For lack of anything better to do.

He blinks as his eyes focused in on the small parade of carriages that enter the front courtyard. He frowns. His curiosity drives him to Morgana's room.

"It's the Lady Nelmir, Arthur. God, how thick are you. How can you not remember? Uther must have announced it fifty times at least," Morgana chides with a roll of her eyes.

"Well—"

"Come on! We're to meet her on the steps!" She brushes passed Arthur, grabbing his wrist on the way by.

Arthur mumbles about being 'so excited' and 'how was he to remember. He never paid much attention to things Uther said anymore.

Uther's face beams with pride as they wait on the steps and Arthur gleans with dread that this must be another marriage set-up.

The carriages roll up, all appearing to be filled with _belongings_, no sight of the actual lady.

Morgana prattles on about how amazing she is—a leader in fashion, thought, and manner. Arthur groans in relief as Morgana finally falls silent when a figure careens into the courtyard on horseback, her dark hair a wild cloud on her head, tendrils streaming out behind, laughing.

"I love her," Morgana's awed whisper reaches his ear. And Arthur admits she makes a picture—from afar—in her emerald dress as she leaps from the back of her spirited horse with no helping hand.

"Lady Nelmir!" Uther extends, all charm and good-will.

They exchange kisses and then Uther leads her up the stairs. "You must be Arthur," she says, unimpressed and breezes past him. "You must be the Lady Morgana! You're even prettier than is reported."

And Morgana is won. Just like that. "You know," Morgana says as they link arms to head inside, "you just gave Arthur an insult he'll never forget..."

The Lady Nelmir grins. "Exactly."

Morgana blinks.

"In my experience, men like Arthur need a little rough handling at first."

"My God. You're brilliant," Morgana breathes.

Nelmir flushes, glancing over at her shoulder at Arthur who stands, looking lost against a backdrop of busy servants.

* * *

Arthur hasn't been able to get _her_ out of his head all day. Ever since she arrived. Chattering and laughing with _Morgana_. That wide grin. Alluring dimples. Arthur scowls. Thick wavy dark hair. Done up to expose a pale throat. Sharp cheekbones upon which rest sharper blue eyes, full of wit. Humour. Intelligence. Every now and then Arthur manages to catch her eye, but she only gives him a paused small secret-hiding smile.

Soon enough she has his father laughing. Arthur grits his teeth. Disgusting. So he leaves, talking through the halls.

* * *

"Can't take the heat, Prince?" an arrogant husky voice asks.

Arthur jerks, bows stiffly. "Lady Nelmir."

She makes no move to return the formality. "Bored, annoyed, or jealous?"

Arthur sputters. "Of _what_?"

"Life, me, the fact that I've charmed your entire family in less than half hour?"

He flushes, saying tightly, "Begging your Lady's pardon—"

"No pardon to beg."

"But how on earth did you find me?"

"I just figured what would make a good hiding-but-not-hiding place for an arrogant, over-privileged prat."

He opens his mouth and is surprised by the fact that it's laughter coming out instead of angry words.

Nelmir grins. "And now I've charmed you too."

"By calling me a prat?"

"It worked."

"It reminded me of...of a friend. Who I haven't seen in a few years," Arthur explains, loneliness flaming up violently for a moment.

"So I'm not the only one who realises you're a prat then?"

"No," Arthur says, a small smile as a peace offering. "But you may be the only one who says it aloud."

Nelmir laughs and Arthur can't help but chuckle. "Your father has dinner planned."

"Of course he does," Arthur rolls his eyes.

"And I, of course, am the guest of honour."

"Of course y—"

"And I expect you to be there. Escort me at half past seven." And as she leaves in a rustle of skirts and click of heels, Arthur can't help but marvel at how easily she's gotten under his skin, how easily she's won him over, and how easily her sly smile and coy glance makes him want to throttle it off her face.

* * *

But Arthur finds himself at her door at seven twenty-five, pacing and adjusting his collar. He hasn't had a manservant for more than a year now. None were...right.

The door opens to frame Nelmir prettily and Arthur admits to himself that she looks a vision in her sapphire gown with silver beading. The opposite of Camelot colours, he realises. "Are you going to wear a groove in the stone or knock on my door," she asks, red lips upturned.

Arthur refrains from glowering and chooses a winning smile instead. "Nonsense. Good evening, Lady Nelmir."

She snorts and grabs the front of his doublet and pulls him into her room. "Arthur. Stop with the formality. It sounds ridiculous on you."

He sputters, eyes going wide as her hands slide up his chest.

"Honestly. You really need a better manservant. Your collar looks horrible." Quick hands adjust it neatly.

"I...don't have one right now."

For some reason she blinks, laughs, and then smiles softly before patting his chest. "Of course, darling."

He flushes as she whisks away, a maid putting in her earrings and powdering her face.

"You really should invest in good help. It's irreplaceable." And she curls his arm around hers and marches him down the hall towards the banquet hall.

"How on earth do you know where you're going?" Arthur demands, bafflement encompassing him as she propels them forward with the clack clack of her heels.

She laughs. "I was given the tour while you were sulking. And I've a very good memory."

If Arthur had been honest, this dinner had had him slightly terrified. But he relaxes as the ale comes and Nelmir's blue eyes seem bluer. She's not as pretty as Morgana. Arthur doesn't think that anyone will quite match Morgana's beauty. But Nelmir has a different sort of beauty. Her spirit commands it. And her smile enhances it. And her laugh enforces it. She has grace and presence and charm and wit and lots of knowledge. She's very smart. And quick. And funny.

More than once Arthur's found himself almost choking on his food or drink due to one of her comments. She and Morgana trade barbs and jokes, laughing behind slender fingers. Like they're old friends.

Nelmir gestures to Gwen, the maid smiling more than he's seen her smile in a while. Since Merlin left, he supposes, the name suddenly bringing heaviness to his heart. He looks down.

"Something the matter, darling?" Nelmir's face edges into his vision and he pulls upright quickly, his head swimming a little bit.

"I'm fine."

"Mm-hmm."

"Really, I am!"

Nelmir laughs and gives his shoulder a light shove. "You just keep pretending, darling."

"Why do you call me that?"

Nelmir's blue eyes are so blue as they look at him innocently.

"Nelmir!" Morgana interrupts. "Shall we go riding tomorrow?"

"Lovely idea! Arthur, you're more than welcome to tag along," Nelmir teases, pleased as his brow darkens. Morgana giggles, and behind her, even Gwen's lips broaden into a smile.

"Right... I'm beginning to feel quite a bit outnumbered," he mutters.

* * *

However, when Nelmir knocks insistently (and ceaselessly) until he opens the door, he says, "Wait for me. I'll throw on...clothes..."

"Do you need a hand with that? I've heard, and this is apparently true, that you're quite dull in the morning..."

Dragging a hand over his face, Arthur growls and shoves the door shut in her face.

The horses are ready and impatient to get going by the time Arthur makes it to the stables.

"There's our morning beauty!" Nelmir grins, vaulting into her horse's saddle, riding like a man. "Ready?"

Morgana's mount is surprisingly less graceful, but her grin fierce and challenging all the same.

"Race to the orchard?" Nelmir suggests.

"I'll win," Arthur says, also vaulting onto his horse and digging his heels in to shoot off across the open field. Nelmir's laugh echoes behind him and she yells Morgana's name before shooting after Arthur.

Bent over the horse's neck, Nelmir catches up with him quickly and gives him a sultry teasing look, mouthing, "Follow me."

The three of them tear into the orchard, Nelmir's horse ahead of Arthur's by a hair, Morgana a space behind. Nelmir cuts across Arthur's path and disappears into the thicker trees of the orchard, a look beckoning over her shoulder.

Arthur finds her languishing against the neck of her horse, reaching up for an apple. "Found me, did you?"

"Who are you, Nelmir?"

She looks surprised at the question and then laughs. "A stranger from far away. Here to see the sights. Like many other people who flock to Camelot to see its golden prince and prideful king."

Arthur feels his spine straighten in surprise and his cheeks burn.

Nelmir smiles and jumps off her horse. "Don't let your ego get too puffed, darling."

"Why are you like this?"

"Hm? Like what?"

"You're..." Arthur gestures, too frustrated for words. "You're so _familiar_. You have no reverence for my position. You—"

"You think too highly of yourself," she says dryly.

He shakes his head. "You're so good at everything."

"Oh my," she murmurs, flushing lightly. "I wasn't aware it was time for my ego to be pet..."

"I wasn't—" Arthur curses in his head as his cheeks turn warm again. "I just don't know what to make of you, Nelmir."

"I'm sure you'll think of something," she says with that secret-holding smile and jumps on her horse again, wheeling away to thunder down the aisle after Morgana.

* * *

She's still full of more surprises, Arthur discovers when he's out on the training field and Nelmir's voice floats over the clash of swords and manly grunts.

"Never? It's brilliant. I promise. You'll have fun."

And the two of them round the corner dressed in tight breeches, thick leather corsets hugging their torsos. Nelmir has two thin swords in one hand and a pair of gloves in the other. Arthur slows his strokes as he watches them prepare and then face off, Nelmir explaining something quickly before the two of them go at one another with the thin swords. Arthur's partner, sensing his distraction, slows as well and turns to watch.

Too quickly for Arthur's liking, everyone else begins to do the same. Eventually it reaches the point where Arthur has to go over and interrupt.

"What on earth are you doing?"

Nelmir fixes him with a look that makes him feel a bit slow. "This _is_ a training field, is it not?"

"Yes, but—"

"Therefore, if one were inclined to train, then this would be the place to do it, yes?

"Yes, but—"

"So I fail to see what the problem is."

"You're _women_," Arthur hisses like a wet cat.

"So."

"You're _distracting_."

"We're training. How is that distracting." Nelmir folds her arms stubbornly, Morgana mirroring her pose. The woman clearly idolises Nelmir.

"My father would abhor this! He'd say you're a distraction to the men training and you don't belong on the training field. Unless you're watching from the sidelines."

"Really?" Nelmir drawls, a glint coming into her eye. "Because I'm fairly certain when I spoke to your father about this morning, he thought it a splendid idea."

Arthur gapes. "I don't believe you."

She shrugs. "Ask him later."

"Like this?" He gestures. "He said it was okay, like this? What you're wearing is distracting enough."

"Yes. And that's exactly whose fault? They're clothes."

Arthur sighs.

"If your men are so easily distracted, perhaps they're not the best material for knighthood," Nelmir hints.

"No no. There's _nothing_ wrong with my men," Arthur replies stoutly. "You two, in your... masculine clothing, _fighting_, are a distraction. Who does that?"

"I do."

He grits his teeth. "It's one thing for a lady to be indulged her whims, but is it _really_ a good idea to do so so publicly?"

"Really, Arthur," Nelmir drawls, eyes glinting with the fight. "And here I thought you would support a woman knowing how to defend herself."

"Wha—! I do! It's just—"

"It's just..." Nelmir mocks. "Grab your sword, darling. Take me for a test run."

Arthur glowers and flushes at the innuendo.

Stepping into his personal space, Nelmir looks up through dark lashes and says in a darker voice, "I _dare_ you."

He whirls away and grabs the nearest practice sword. "I don't want to break your blade. It looks so pretty."

"Pay careful attention, Morgana," Nelmir says brightly. "Boys and their toys can be so confident. But we ladies know that bigger is not always better."

Her voice carries further than Arthur has patience for and now there's a wide circle around them, the knights laughing and getting in the mood for a spectacle.

"Are you ready, darling?"

A few men guffaw. Arthur glares. Settles himself into stance while arching a disdainful brow at the stiff and upright position in which Nelmir holds herself. He makes a feint at Nelmir, but she doesn't move. He strikes at her and she's dancing out of the way.

"A wager?" She incites, looking around.

Arthur snorts. "That's hardly fair."

With a pitying glance, Nelmir tosses her head. "I know, darling. I'm sorry." The knights are cheering. "If I win... Arthur Pendragon, you are to be my servant for a day."

"And if I win," Arthur retorts, "you serve me—willingly and cheerfully—for the day!"

Raising the thin blade in front of her face, Arthur very much doesn't like the rather fierce grin on Nelmir's lips. "Morgana, dear, give us a count down. From three."

He'll humiliate her, Arthur knows, and a little part of him will be glad to take the woman down a peg. He's ready. Sword confident and sure. Mind clear. So when Morgana yells 'go!' he's ready and lunges forward. Nelmir skips away, blade glancing off his. They circle, blades hitting and missing, but Nelmir keeps up with him and Arthur is forced to admit respect for her skills.

"I know how you move," Nelmir murmurs, their blades locked and bodies close. "You may as well cede."

"You know I won't then."

"No." A simple smile. "But it makes you fight harder." They break away and the yelling escalates. The crowd seems bigger.

Another close exchange. "You know I don't want to hurt you—"

"I'm hardly glass now, am I?" she circles and gives him a push as they come close.

"But I will win."

"Your pride demands it," she teases, skirting around him with another clash.

Suddenly Arthur's foot comes down wrong, slides on the grass, Nelmir bumping him to aid is loss of balance and he goes down. The tip of her blade is at his throat and she plants a foot on his chest.

"My win!" And her smile eases the loss—though, of course, he lost on purpose. She offers a hand, blade now in the ground. "Excellent play."

Arthur takes her hand and rolls to his feet, testing his ankle. Fine. Magnanimously, he spreads his arms with a showy bow. "Lady, I am yours for a day." The knights hoot and yell, Arthur sending a wink in Kay's direction. Just in case they might think Nelmir actually won. Because it was just his bad luck.

Or Nelmir's good luck, he realises, which she seems to have a lot of. His eyes narrow. Magic?  
Morgana's congratulating Nelmir and saying she wants 'to fight just as you do! Teach me!'

Nelmir pats her cheek, laughing. "Of course. Though elsewhere. We are apparently not welcome." She glances at Arthur. "Report to me first thing tomorrow."

Then the two of them head off, whispering and giggling. Leaving Arthur to ensure and repair his reputation amongst his knights. By beating them all soundly.

* * *

Later, Arthur finds himself with some free time, and after moment of it being filled with thoughts of Nelmir, about Nelmir, and concerning Nelmir (and possibly magic), Arthur goes to the only person with whom he may discuss things like this: Gaius.

The man is retired, how living in Camelot proper. He smiles at Arthur. "Come in, Sire."

And they chat. Inane subjects. Until Arthur can no longer keep away from the subject of Lady Nelmir. "Gaius, she can do everything. She's charmed _every_one around me, and sometimes even me! And I don't know if it's all just her winning personality."

"Arthur..." His look throws all of his doubts back in his face.

"I know! I know! It's why I haven't said anything yet. Just... suspect." He sighs and drops his head into his hands. "How can one person have everything go so _right_ in her life?"

"Certainly does sound like a charmed life, Sire."

"Is there a way to tell?"

"Have you seen her eyes turn gold ever?"

"Gold—no. Her eyes are very very blue."

"Then I'm afraid there's really not much else we can do. If Mer—"

They both look down.

"I should...be getting back," Arthur excuses.

"Of course, Sire." Gaius sounds so old. "However, if I might add..."

"Go ahead."

"Since she's only charming you _part_ of the time, I think perhaps there might be something else going on here."

"Oh? What do you think?"

Gaius looks at him.

"What?"

He finally sighs and rolls his eyes. "You might just have feelings for her, Sire."

This time it's Arthur's turn to stare. "Right. Of course. How could I not see it..."

"You're not known for knowing your own feelings, Arthur."

The glare he sends Gaius doesn't have any real heat to it. "Well, it was a pleasure talking to you again. I'll return soon."

Gaius nods.

Feeling for the old man, Arthur pauses by the door. "Tomorrow night, Gaius. Come for dinner—it's been too long."

The old man smiles his gratitude. "Good night, Arthur."

* * *

But it isn't. Arthur has terrible dreams and wakes up feeling like he's had too much ale the night before. Debating briefly about giving Nelmir the brush-off, he dresses and trudges to her room lest he be thought a coward. She's much too cheerful, whirling around her room, but she shares her breakfast, since Arthur forgot to eat.

They head downstairs and they're halfway down the staircase when there's a shout from behind them and one of the maid's enormous baskets of laundry tumbles directly on top of Arthur. Or where Arthur _would_ have been had Nelmir not pulled him aside. Into her. Against the wall. He looks at her, but she's looking at the aghast babbling servant.

"Thank you," he murmurs. "You saved me."

"Not yet," Nelmir murmurs back, eyes looking very far away.

Now he's sure of it. There's something magical about her. There has to be. "Prophesying?" he asks casually.

Nelmir's blues are on him then and she laughs. "Hardly. I just saved you from injury. And pridefall. Well. Shall we?" She takes his hand and they skirt the servants picking up the laundry. Nelmir throws one more glance at the scene of the almost-accident.

Later, for lunch, Nelmir usurps Arthur's place-setting, smiling sweetly at Uther. Someone's arm or something bumps Nelmir's goblet, spilling the liquid everywhere, so she tuts and orders Arthur to get her a new one.

He flushes as Morgana laughs and his father raises a curious eyebrow, but Nelmir leans over and explains, making Uther laugh and then enforce her order. Arthur dawdles for revenge.

After eating, she orders him with her for shopping. He groans but trails after her until she stops and laces an arm through his.

"You're a strange woman, Nelmir," Arthur comments, watching her closely.

She steers him to the other side of the street, avoiding angry merchants. "So."

"Most women do not... have skills like your, or behave like you.

"As you've already guessed," she says with a coy glance, "I'm not most women."

Arthur swallows. Did she read his mind? Did she know he suspected her of using magic.

"After all, it would hardly be fun if I were most women, would it? And you'd never find me as fascinating as you do if I were most women."

Snorting, because what is there to say to _that_, Arthur looks away.

"Ooh! Daggers! This way."

Nelmir drags him around for the rest of the afternoon until it's time for her to get ready for dinner and Arthur's run out of arms to hold her purchases. Ordering him into her room, she throws open her wardrobe and demands he pick one.

"You want me to pick your outfit?" Arthur echoes, staring.

"You are my slave for the day. Pick me an outfit." She lifts her eyes to his. "I trust you."

Again, Arthur wonders how she's made him speechless. So he picks out a gown in Pendragon red. Nelmir laughs when she sees it, already in her under dress. "Get dressed! Don't stand her half-clothed!"

"Does it bother you, Prince? To see me as a woman?" She steps closer.

"I already see you as a woman," Arthur grumbles.

"Thank you."

"For what?" Arthur blinks.

She smiles and presses a soft kiss to his lips quickly before murmuring, "I've always wanted to see how that feels" and disappearing behind her dressing screen.

Arthur clears his throat. "We've a guest for dinner tonight."

"Yes? Who is it?"

"He's an old friend. He used to be the court physician. His name is Gaius. Nelmir makes no reply, so he continues. "Go easy on him, Nelmir. He's an old man. I don't think he would appreciate your...teasing."

"Of course," she agrees, stepping out from behind the screen.

"You look lovely... In my colour..."

"You'll catch flies if you keep staring with your mouth open..."

"You always do that!"

"Do what?" She starts undoing her hair.

"You can't take a compliment," Arthur accuses smugly. "You always have to diffuse."

She puts a brush in his hand and sits, waiting expectantly.

Heaving a sigh, Arthur complies. "You're a lovely woman, Nelmir. You're very smart. And you're amazingly talented."

He watches her roll her eyes in the mirror, open her mouth to retort, and then shut it again. "Thank you."

"Much better."

"Prat."

"Idiot."

"And here you just—"

"I'm sorry," he interrupts. "I just... my manservant. Habit. We..."

She waits.

"He used to heckle me. Not unlike you. And we would trade barbs. It's habit. I'm sorry."

"You miss him?"

"I...I do."

"Where is he?"

"I don't know," Arthur answers truthfully. "I haven't seen him in two years. I wouldn't even know where to look if I started."

"Why did he leave?"

"He...had to."

"Mm. Perhaps he's not ready to be found."

"He can't come back yet. It's not safe," Arthur confesses, pulling the brush through Nelmir's waves. Nelmir watches him carefully, so he continues. "He's...well. He..." Arthur pauses, unsure why he's so willing to tell her.

"I'll keep your secrets, Arthur Pendragon."

"He's a warlock. He has magic."

"Really? How fascinating! I wish I could have met him."

"Gaius was his mentor."

"I'll be extra kind," she says, face straight, eyes twinkling.

He swats her shoulder. "Cheeky. I'm finished."

Nelmir stands and twists her hair around so it lies prettily against her head. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, of course."

She smiles and places her hands on his shoulders to lean up on her toes and kiss his lips again.

"I don't...know if this should...become a habit," Arthur says, uncertainty winding through him.

"Hm. I can see where it would be beneficial. For both of us."

Feeling vaguely uncomfortable with the turn of events, Arthur removes her hands. "I don't think this is a good idea."

She pulls back, grousing, "And therein, Arthur Pendragon, you think _too_ much when you're not supposed to..." Turning away, Nelmir gives herself one more look-over before manhandling Arthur towards the door. "Let me know when you change your mind. Now. Let's get you dressed."

He blinks as they approach his room, his faculties full returning. "Wait! Wait, Nelmir! This is... This is hardly appropriate! You're a lady, and I'm the prince!" The door is opened and she pushes him in. "We can't!" He tries for firmer as her fingers pull at the laces deftly and has him halfway out of his shirt before he pushes her away. "What are you _doing_?"

"Trying to help you dress properly."

"Well, it looks like you're out to seduce me!"

She rolls her eyes. "I tried that and was denied already, remember?"

Arthur flushes. "I can dress myself, you know."

"Yes. But you don't do such a terribly splendid job of it. Let me help."

"Wait here." Arthur disappears behind his changing screen to swap his clothes quickly, trying to deny the reaction he's had to Nelmir's attentions. Lacing his own breeches, he doesn't want her fingers anywhere near there, Arthur emerges. Nelmir's apparently already chosen his clothing.

"The blue shirt," she hands it to him, "and cream doublet."

He complies and waits while her able fingers take over the laces. "You kno—" There's a loud crash as the window breaks, Nelmir falling on top of him. In the confusion of the moment, Arthur still notices the arrow that flies right by his face as they fall to the floor. Grunting as they hit the ground, Arthur has an arm wrapped around the girl, protective. "Wha—"

"Assassination attempt," Nelmir says, rising immediately.

Arthur grabs her wrist to pull her down again. "What if they try again?"

"They won't." There's something iron in her voice as she walks to the window, looking around.

"Nelmir! Get away from there!"

"It's you they're after. They won't kill me. And they're probably long gone by now, their attempt failed." She looks him up and down and then walks over, a soft smile on her lips. "And you're fine."

He gets to his feet and eyes her. "Did you know?"

"Did I know what?" she replies, distracted by the damaged window.

Arthur rolls his eyes. "That it was going to happen?"

"Hm? What? Oh Arthur. No. Of course not. Let's get you finished up so we can go to dinner."

"You're not...even...bothered by this?" He stares at her. "You're just going to...get on with life?"

"What is there to do? The assailants are likely long gone. Your room will be chillier tonight is all." She shrugs. "Unless, of course, you care to stay with me."

"Of course. This is all just a big plot for me to sleep with you, isn't it," he snarks.

"No. But if you'd like to, I would like to."

"How are you so calm about this!"

"Because, Arthur. Assassination attempts are something that every important has to deal with. And the sooner that you get over the stress they cause, the sooner that you can move forward and be proactive."

He wonders at her words, more mystery piling onto the woman. "God, you must have had something fairly awful happen to you..."

"Yes." She meets his eyes though and finishes with his laces before kissing him again.

Arthur lets her kiss him. He even participates to see how it feels before stepping back. "Shall we?"

"To dinner." She takes his arm and they make their way to the hall to eat.

"I still don't know what you want from me," Arthur murmurs as they are about to make their entrance to the dining hall.

"Nothing, Arthur. I don't want anything from you. Don't worry." And that's the last that she'll say about it, because then she's greeting Gaius like an old friend, kindness and affection lighting up her face.

* * *

She yawns widely after dinner and 'requires' Arthur's presence, so they're off, back to Nelmir's rooms. "You're staying with me tonight."

"I never agreed to that."

"I don't care," she says tartly, pulling down her hair. "I'd be more comfortable with knowing your safer here in my room."

"_Your_ room," he says incredulously. "Nelmir... You're—"

Her eyes flash and she rounds on him. "Don't you _dare_ say that I'm a woman."

This stops Arthur from saying she's a woman. "Well, you _are_."

"I. Know. But it doesn't mean that I cannot protect you."

"Protect me! I don't need protecting."

"Sod off, you fool. I've been protecting you the whole time!"

"What..." Arthur can't laugh because it really isn't funny. Arthur can't scoff because he knows she's not kidding. Arthur can't joke because it isn't one. Arthur clamps his mouth shut.

Then she groans and runs a hand over her face. "Brilliant. Now I've spoilt it..."

"What?"

"I'm here to protect you. While Merlin can't."

Arthur gapes. "What!"

"Is that the only word you can say?"

"No!" he bites out churlishly.

"Try widening your vocabulary, sweetheart." She turns and begins undoing the laces of her gown.

"God, do you even _care_ about decency."

"It's a body, Arthur. You have one. I have one. They're different, but it's all just skin."

"Way to take any romance out of everything."

She snorts and throws him a look. "Or do you like something you see."

"Not like I haven't heard that line a million times," he drawls, "but yes."

She stares at him, surprise bringing her eyebrows up, and Arthur can't help but feel pleasure sweep through him that he's managed to wring a real reaction out of her. "You do?" her voice asks, husky and sweet.

"Despite all of your...you-ness, Nelmir, I do."

"Oh."

"Oh?" Arthur echoes, a bit incredulous. "Don't tell me you're going to back out now."

"You're sure you want to do this? With me?"

"Nelmir," Arthur grips her shoulders. "If I really didn't, I wouldn't. And you couldn't force me. This isn't out of pity."

She glares at him then. "You're the only one I've ever...propositioned."

This makes Arthur kind of inexplicably happy so he grins. "Aim high, do you?"

She grins, wide and sultry. "I only server the best." Then she's kissing him like he's the only thing that matters.

Arthur hopes it's true, because right now she's the only one that matters to him.

He can't tell if he's pushing or she's pulling, but he ends up falling over her on her bed. In either case, the friction is delicious and he pulls her shift up, hand skimming over her breasts.

She breathes a little faster and arcs into his touch, hands scrabbling to pull his clothing off. "Not fair if I'm the only one that's naked..." she hisses and then pushes Arthur back to pull his doublet off and then his shirt are cast to the floor. "Arthur..." Then her fingers are unlacing his breeches and shoving them down

"Nelmir..." he gasps. "God, you're..."

"I know," she breathes against his neck and then pulls him back against her skin.

And Arthur has to laugh—albeit a bit breathlessly—because she is. And he's certain that she does know.

"Arthur, Arthur... I don't want to wait all day," she needles, arching her hips up against his, prompting him into action.

Arthur positions himself over her and then goes breathless when Nelmir grabs his cock and guides it into her as her hips buck up making him enter her. Inarticulate noises pour forth from Arthur's mouth as he slid all the way into into her. "Nelmir... I can't believe we didn't do this sooner..." He aches with the emotion like she's going to disappear. When did it hit him so strongly?

"Hnng! Arthur! Move. Your. Hips," she gasps as he thumbs her nipple, sucking softly at her neck.

"Strange, isn't it...?" he hums against her skin. "Someone else having the control?"

"No, you prat. Just infuriating!"

She tries to roll her hips, but he has one hand holding her down. She tries to pull him closer, wrap her legs around his hips, but he doesn't move, teasing her. Maybe, he admits, a little for revenge. But only because her cheeks are so bright and she'll love it. Women take longer to wind up.

"Arthur, Arthur, Arthur, Arthur," she breathes over and over again like some sort of prayer. "Move. Please move. I'm not fragile."

So he does. Hard and fast, and her fingers are covering him everywhere, sliding down his back, over the curve of his arse, fingers digging in, heating him up. He groans deeply, Nelmir's blue eyes the only thing that he can see. When she starts to keen, squeezing her eyes shut, he follows her ascent into pleasure quickly.

Uncoiling, lithe and completely sated, Nelmir arcs back across the pillows with a hum. "God, Arthur. That was amazing..."

"I'd give you the same compliment, but I wouldn't want you to think that I'm copying..." he says, eyes drifting closed.

"Sleep, dear prince. I'll wake you in the morning."

Arthur smiles, drawing himself nearer to her, feeling happy and safe in the arms of someone so familiar.

* * *

The next morning, Arthur wakes to a cold bed, panicking slightly before he spots Nelmir by the window.

"Scared I'd run off?" She smiles, arrogant and tender.

"Of course not," he covers.

"Of course not. It's my bed," she says, closing her book to stand and sway over to him. "Ready for round two?"

And Arthur finds he is. Hard for her already. "Get over here." He holds out a hand and she takes it, leaning over him, breasts loose in her shift, the neckline falling so he can see straight through. "God, you're beautiful..."

"That works well to seduce a woman," she flips off, crawling forward.

"You're already seduced."

"Confident of that, Arthur?"

"Very."

She stops just above him, leaning down so her breasts brush against his chest through the thin chemise. "Well. You might just be right about it..." Then she kisses him, long and sweet until they're both panting from not enough air. Or maybe it's just her presence.

"I think I'm in love with you..." he murmurs, hands spread across her back.

She stills. Sighs. "Oh Arthur..."

"What? What is it? What's wrong? What—"

She presses a finger to his lips and then sits ramrod straight as there's a jostle of armour out in the hall. She curses and then rolls off him and throws on a robe, hissing at him to get out of her bed and make himself decent.

When the heavy hands fall at her door, he is, and she opens the door with a calm he's impressed by.

"The prince is missing, Lady, and there's a sorcerer on the loose! Uther's ordered everyone in the castle to the hall where there are less windows!"

"The prince is here, with me. And we'll join you shortly."

"We've been ordered to escort you, my Lady."

Arthur makes his way over, but Nelmir is insisting that they'll come down, go get the next guests. They leave. "How did you convince them? My father would never allow them to pass us up. Especially since it's me."

"And again, your ego taking over." Nelmir sighs. "We'll be fine. Nothing will harm us. I'm with you."

He cocks his head. "You sound so sure. What could _you _do, though. No, don't get upset. I'm honestly curious."

"If Merlin's sent me, Arthur, you should trust me," she says, not looking at him.

"Well, yes. But... Well. _Merlin_. He was..." He shrugs.

"Magical."

"Shh!" Arthur presses a hand over her mouth. "Not so loud!"

"Don't worry. No one heard," she comments wryly as she folds her arms across her chest.

Looking around, Arthur's shoulders slump. "Sorry. It's just... I was...careless. And he suffers for it."

She arcs an eyebrow at him. "It was your fault that he had to leave Camelot."

"Yes."

"Gods, if he could hear you admit that... He might just hug you!" She's grinning at him then and the world feels alright.

"As if I would want that."

Her smiles turns grim then. "I guess not."

"What's that to mean, then?"

"Come on. To the hall." She slips a simple dress on and turns her back to Arthur. "Lace me."

"Sounds dirty," he mutters, glad when she flushes.

"Later," she promises and then takes his hand and leads him through the halls to the main hall where his father is waiting. He's unsure why he lets her, but it doesn't bother him. What bothers him is when she curses and then shoves him back around the corner.

"Wha—"

"Hush." She covers him as a fireball flies by, bursting against stone. "He's found us."

"Who? The sorcerer!"

"Well, at least everyone else is safe," she says, sounding not a bit sorry at all that they're the focus of his attacks.

"Nelmir! What on _earth_ is going on! Dammit! You didn't give me time to grab my sword!"

"And this is my fault?" She hisses, eyes flashing. "Don't start with me right now, Arthur." Leaning a head around, she quickly retreats as another fireball goes by. "We'll have to take a detour," and then his hand is grabbed and he's towed like a small child back down the hall and through passages he hadn't been down in years.

"What are we doing?"

"Saving your life, eliminating a threat, and getting pampered by your father. Eventually."

"You really remind me of someone, you know."

"Is this the time, _Sire_."

Arthur blinks. "Are you _related_ to Merlin?" He runs into her as she stops.

"Related?"

"Yes. You know. Cousins or something?"

"Arthur, how could I be related to Merlin?"

"You're right. You're exactly every opposite to him..."

"He's grown up, Arthur," she says, blue eyes boring into him. "We need to kill this sorcerer. He's only evil aims."

"As I can tell by him wanting to kill me."

"Yes..." She ducks into a room and returns with a bow and arrows. "This will do."

Arthur's left with nothing to do other than follow, feeling very much like he's being rescued and not liking it. Even if it is by Nelmir's hand. That makes it both better and worse.

Eventually, they come to a corridor and Nelmir makes him stop, leaning around the corner and smiling a cold smile. "There he is." On silent feet she's got a clear sight of him and draws back the arrow, loosing with the ease of practice and the man cries out, falling over. "Stay here." Then she's running at the man, pushing him down and bending close.

Since Arthur follows orders about as well as Merlin, he lopes after her, hearing only the last parts of what she's saying to the man.

"—mess with me. As your masters should know. Tell them Merlin will not stand for it. The prince is under his protection. You cannot do magic anymore. It's sealed. And your arm is useless. Tell them. Begone."

"Nelmir...?" Arthur says softly, but she still jumps.

"God, Arthur, don't _do _that."

"What do you mean? About Merlin?"

She gives him a soft glance, almost pitying, and then kisses him on the lips. "Tell Uther I enjoyed my time here more than anything. I have to go."

"Go?"

"Goodbye Arthur."

"What? Wait a minute! Nelmir!" He grabs her arm as she starts to walk away. "You can't just _leave_."

"I can. I must," she looks up into his eyes.

"What about..."

"I've protected you. The sorcerer is no longer a threat. And Merlin..." She stops and shakes her head. "You'll be fine for a bit longer until he can come back."

"But I—"

"You'll be fine. I have to go."

"I lo—"

"No. Don't say it, Arthur."

His bewilderment turns to anger. "You can't just _leave _me. I want you to stay."

"Merlin wanted to stay."

"That's not fair," he mutters, low in his throat. "It was an accident."

"Tell him so next time you see him."

"It was an accident!"

"I know." Her eyes turn tender. "So does he. He misses you, Arthur. Terribly. He wants nothing more than to remain by your side."

"You have to stay."

"I cannot." Wrenching her wrist from his hand she runs down the hall.

Arthur sprints after her, fear grabbing at his throat as he doesn't see her when he rounds the corner. "Nelmir!" He turns. "Nelmir!" Curses. He races to her room, determined to catch her. But when he arrives, there's nothing there that was hers. No evidence that she was there. So he sits. His father bursts in some time later, intent that there was no harm done. Arthur numbly explains that there's nothing wrong with him, Nelmir took care of it, Nelmir's gone. Nelmir left. Nelmir is gone. She's gone. And it's broken his heart a little.

* * *

Some short years later, when Arthur is just as distraught over his father's death, a tall figure moves to him after the funeral pyre has burnt to ashes. A hand with long fingers grips his shoulder.

"Arthur."

He turns. "Merlin?"

A giant grin splits his face as the hood comes down revealing his brilliant blue eyes, a sun-warmed face, and the knowledge of the world in his manner.

"Merlin!" Before Arthur knows it he's clasping the man to his chest. "I'm so glad you're here!"

"I'm sorry your father passed." He steps back

"I know. Thank you. God, Merlin, I'm so so—"

"So sorry, you're sorry, can I ever forgive you?"

"I take it back. I'm not sorry at all," Arthur says peevishly, gripping his manservant's shoulder.

"I'm back. And ready to re-assume all of my responsibilities."

"Really...?" Arthur examines him. "What have you been up to?"

"Oh, many things, Sire. Many things."

"That sounds ominous, Merlin."

"Rightly so," his manservant says sombrely, though the twinkle in his eye somewhat ruins the effect.

"Well. I'm a bit hungry. And it's a long way back to the castle. Let's get on—" Everything turns dark and in the time it takes Arthur to blink they're back in his room in the castle. "—our way...?" He turns wildly. "What just happened!"

Merlin grins. "Just a small taste. Lunch?" He gesture to the previously empty table where a small feast is waiting. "_King_ Arthur."

"All of my favourites..." Arthur says in a small voice. "Merlin..."

"I know, you missed me."

"That's not what—"

"I know: you love me."

Arthur flushes. "Merlin! Shut. Up."

"Of course." Instead, he smiles an irritating smile that reminds him of someone else and makes him really look. Merlin has grown. He's taller than Arthur, but still skinnier. His face isn't quite as thin, but his cheekbones still hang prominent on his face, hair outlining his head wildly, longer than usual.

"Where have you been?"

"Well, if I told you where I was, I can't use the same hidey-hole if I, for some reason, need to run back into hiding, could I?"

Arthur rolls his eyes. "You'll not need to run again, Merlin." Arthur sits before the food and gestures for Merlin to do the same.

"Comforting, Sire."

"I'm serious."

Merlin smiles. "I know, Sire."

"And what's with all of the calling me 'sire.' Hm, Merlin?"

"I thought I was just being polite?"

"And since when have you ever been polite?"

"So what have you been up to?" Merlin asks lightly, skimming his thin fingers over the table.

"Nothing. Special." Arthur says, looking away.

"Mm-hm. Not what I heard from...Nelmir." Merlin's watching him closely. He can feel it, but can't help the flinch anyway.

"She's... She was..."

"Perfect?"

This time Arthur does meet his eyes. "No. She was just... She visited."

"Saved your life."

"May have... helped me out," Arthur concedes. "But she spent some time here, I understand Merlin, on your recommendation?"

"Oh yes," Merlin says, looking very pleased with himself. "I know. Snog her senseless, I hear."

Arthur looks horrified. "She... Merlin! I don't have to explain myself to you!"

"Of course not, Sire," Merlin smiles, arranging himself in the chair across from him.

"Of course not, Sire," Arthur mocks half-heartedly.

"I told you I'd always be by your side, didn't I?'

"Yes, Merlin."

"I've always been working for you, Arthur. Even when not here."

"Merlin, you've turned very strange."

"I've always been strange, Sire."

"Alright, stoppit with the riddles!" Arthur bangs his plate.

"Sorry, Sire." But he doesn't look sorry. In fact he's smiling. "So you liked Nelmir?"

"Are you related?" Arthur blurts.

"Related?"

"Yes, Merlin, are you still an idiot?"

"Of course not. I'm surprised you would think so."

"You're just..." Now Arthur feels foolish. "You're very much alike is all. Sometimes."

"Only sometimes?"

"Alright!" He slams his fist again. "Well if you were a girl! She would be you!" Then there's silence and Arthur wishes he hadn't said anything at all.

"You think?" Merlin only sounds mildly surprised.

"Merlin? What are you hiding?"

"What makes you think I was hiding anything?"

"Was?"

"God, Merlin. Stop playing these games."

"I don't want to play games with you, Arthur."

"Then tell me what you're not telling me."

"Nothing." He smiles his wide guileless smile.

Sighing in defeat, Arthur shoves an apple into his mouth.

* * *

Through the next week, he's not quite sure how to deal with this new Merlin. This new Merlin that's confident and powerful. He can do anything. Before Arthur even wakes, Merlin has everything handled and is waiting in a chair for Arthur to wake. "Good morning, Arthur."

"Don't be too cheerful in the morning," Arthur grumbles.

"Of course, darling."

This has Arthur awake in seconds. "What did you just say?"

"Hm?" Merlin looks up at him calmly.

Arthur rolls out of bed. "What. Did. You. Just. Say."

"I said good morning."

"After that." He stalks over to Merlin, grabbing the front of his tunic.

"Arthur..." The blood drains from his face.

"_Don't_ say my name, Merlin. What did you say?"

"Arthur, calm down."

"Don't tell me, Merlin."

"You just said you wanted to know," Merlin offers.

Everything clicks and Arthur feels all the blood rush from his face. "No. No, Merlin. Tell me no. Tell me..." He steps back, pale, and sinks into the chair. "Merlin... Oh God..." His hands cover his face as he realises what has to be the truth. The only thing that can be truth. "She was you," he moans. "You were her."

Merlin rushes forward and puts his hands on either side of his face. "Arthur, calm down."

"No!" He smacks Merlin's hands away. "Get off me! Don't touch me! How _could_ you!"

"Arthur, I don't know what yo—"

"_Don't_. Lie. To me. Don't _lie_ to me. God, Merlin! Again!" Arthur looks up into Merlin's eyes, seeing the man's face crumble at Arthur's distress. "How _could_ you!"

"Arthur,..." The syllables croak from Merlin's mouth.

"God..." He drops his head, curling over his knees. "Merlin, I _loved_ her," he confesses, feeling empty.

"What have I done...?" Merlin's voice echoes in his ears. "God, I've messed up everything. It was never... Oh God... Arthur, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It wasn't... it was a spell! It was just to... to keep you safe! I never..."

"Shut up, Merlin," he says tiredly, not looking at him.

"It wasn't," Merlin drops off miserably, sinking to his knees.

"Don't touch me."

"I'm sorry you loved her. I'm sorry I lied. I couldn't..." Merlin groans. "You know I couldn't...be me."

"You could have clued me in! Merlin." Arthur lifts his head, shoving the man in front of him before standing. "You could have given me a bloody _fucking_ clue!"

"I..." Merlin shakes his head, no more words coming, mouth just moving. "What do you want? I'll do anything, Arthur! Let me fix this!"

"What can you fix?" Arthur says, fingers clenching by his side. "What can you make better, Merlin."

"This was all an awful mistake," the warlock replies, more to himself than to Arthur.

"A mistake now?" Arthur barks with a humourless laugh. "A mistake. Sleeping with me was a mistake."

"No! God, no! That was—" He breaks off, face flushing bright red. "That wasn't... That wasn't the mistake part... Though I should have told..."

"Yes. You should have."

Merlin sucks in a breath. "I should have told you before...before we slept together."

"Exactly."

"But then you wouldn't have wanted to," he says in a small small voice, eyes on his fingers.

"I don't know how I didn't see it..." Arthur says a few minutes later.

"I learned. I practised. I wasn't... I wasn't me. Not really. I was always her. In front of you," says the man, the slow, steady stream of words filling the silence. "I wanted to. I teased you. I knew you. I knew me. I knew what you liked... I liked you very much."

"But you didn't love me."

"I always loved you," Merlin looks up again, his blue eyes wide and sincere.

Arthur thinks he believes him, but the hurt is still banging around in his chest. "Not enough to say it?"

"I couldn't."

Arthur looks away.

"Arthur!" Merlin's voice demands his attention. So he looks. "I couldn't say it, because I wouldn't be saying it as me."

"Oh Merlin..." Arthur says because there's nothing else to say.

"What..."

"Shh. Just shh." Arthur shakes his head. And then he's constrained, arms holding his down, one hand pushing his head against Merlin's shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Can you please forgive me? Can you ever forgive me? I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted that. I just wanted to protect you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I love you. I do. As me. For me. Only me. I love you, Arthur. Always. I'll always protect you. I'll always take care of you."

"I forgive you, Merlin," Arthur breathes against his neck. "I forgive you."


End file.
